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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Seven brides me seven sins
Seven writhe for me
From Orient gates to
Abydos to

And Sirens from stern
But now I cease to
For I yearn to return to woodland
Herne and his wild huntress lay

Now the are turning, spurning the darkness
The purgations of distinguished tours
Are but in time to the thrill that Im once more
Heading to the bedding of her English

The wind bickered in Satanic mill
flickered in deep thickets of trees
And mists clung tight in to vales
When Brigantia her soul to me

Imbolg to Bealtaine
Lughnasadh to Samhain
I heard her lament as seasons
Together a beast

Now the tidal are churning in darkness
The of extinguished wars
Are but stills in time to the chill that once more
Dreading the red weddings on her shores

Gone are the summers of my youth
Cruel winters cut their sacred
With polished scythes reap worldwide
black skies and forest smoke

And the hosts that I saw
Drones of law
the ghosts of my forbears
To rove and rally once

One of her sons from the far flung
home to rebuild
The line of the Leonine
Risen pestilent fields

Now the tidal are turning in darkness
The salvation of her hungry
spill like wine from the hills to chines that pour
Spreading her beheadings on English shores

For the that I saw there
Drones of law
the ghosts of my forbears
To rove and rally once

This is a waking for
its reticent doze
This is a for England
Lest hope and are regarded as foes